


Encore

by Davechicken



Series: The Pilot and his Knight [23]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Snoke - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-01 23:16:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6540610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo's teaching sometimes takes its toll.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Encore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poetdameron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetdameron/gifts).



> Prompt to recall their meeting.

It’s late one night, and it’s been one hell of a day. Poe can always tell when the teaching is taking it out on Kylo, because his husband really _doesn’t_ shield himself well, even now. It’s one of many things he loves about him, even if the reasoning behind the man’s inability to cover over his reactions is bitter-sweet at best.

Ben had withdrawn into himself, before… before. He’d become sullen and distant, and then when he’d left that name behind, he’d done so in an explosive fashion. Then he’d been masked, muzzled, controlled. Given a false face to hide behind, one that didn’t care if he emoted or not, because no one saw the horror behind it. 

Poe sometimes wonders if he should help him learn how to school his face more effectively, but then he also knows people respond to him better when he shows his weakness. It’s difficult. When do you step in to help, and when do you accept it as just part and parcel, and… why isn’t there a guide to how to deal with this sort of thing? No holo-essay on the after-effects of Dark Side manipulation. Shame, really.

Right now, Kylo is tired, and it likely means he’s been working on mental control training with the students, and he always hates that most of all. He’s also the best _suited_ to it, which is why he still insists on being the one to do it. No one knows how to fuck with - or defend against fucking with - a mind more than Kylo Ren. And he always insists to Poe that he’d rather undergo a few days of unease a year than run the risk of leaving someone vulnerable to any other Dark Side maestro.

Poe wants to lighten the mood, so he pulls Kylo into the living room. The current culinary concoction is slowly cooking in the oven, and they have some time, first. Kylo is subdued enough to follow where he’s pulled, and he only looks minorly confused as they end up standing face to face. Poe asks BB-8 to put the music on, and the droid bleeps in agreement before leaving.

“Really?”  


“You look like you need your mind taking off things,” Poe says, and puts a hand on his waist, holding the other for his husband’s hand.  


Kylo smiles, and lets himself be manhandled gently into position. His tiny not-reciprocating just-allowing is part of _their_ dance, his minor defiance to hold up his ego, whilst still showing he wants whatever it is. Tiny things, tiny victories and defeats. Poe takes the lead, despite their height difference, guiding Kylo around the small living room. It’s big enough for their purposes, and a few bumps into couches is a small price to pay for the way Kylo calms in his grip.

The regularity of the beats, the proximity, the shared heat goes a long way to soothing him. That plus, he’s sure, knowing that Poe even realises he’s sad and wants to help. Kylo melts into him, and it’s all great until a familiar song comes on.

Poe half-pulls back, delight on his face. “You remember that party?” he asks, eyes bright.

Kylo does, but his expression wobbles. There’s some happiness, but it’s melting like icecream in the summer sun. He blinks, and turns his face, doing his best to hold back the choked breath.

“Babe?”  


Kylo can’t hide his distress for long, _ever_ , but least of all to Poe.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.  


“Why? Babe… why are you sad to hear our song?”  


“I’m… Poe. That was another lifetime ago.”  


This is more than a song, so he pulls him from their dance to the couch, and won’t take no for an answer. Kylo resists, but allows it, again. He’s still looking away, and he seems on the verge of tears. 

Hands clasped, the other reaches up, swiping at the offending flickers of water. “Ky. Talk to me?”

“I just… I remembered… I remembered how we used to be. You were so full of life, and… and you were so happy, and I - for a while, I thought I could be, too. I thought… I thought we could be happy, and then… and then _everything else_.”  


“Hey… it’s okay. Kylo… it’s okay. We’re past that, remember? You’re here, and you’re safe, and that bastard is gone…”  


Haunted eyes look up at him, and Poe sees the shadow of so many difficult nights in them. Deep, deep down. He doesn’t need the Force powers that Kylo’s pupils have to read his mind, right now. “I’m not - I’m– I’m not who I was, Poe. I can’t ever go back. What happened… it won’t go away. It won’t ever go away. No matter how good life is, it still _happened_. It’s still _in me_.”

“Ky…” He holds on tighter, and tries to radiate warmth, security, compassion, love. These freak outs used to happen a lot more frequently, and Poe’s grateful they happen less, now. “Babe. He’s gone. He can’t hurt you any more. And yes, those bad things happened… but they _stopped_. They stopped, and you’re safe. And you feel bad, now, but that’s because you’re helping other people _not_ feel bad. Remember?”  


Poe waits for Kylo’s reluctant nod.

“You feel bad because you dredged it all up, but you remember you told me it was worth it, if it stopped even _one_ person feeling like you did? You remember that?”  


A longer pause, another nod. His eyes slide away, and Poe pulls him in for a hug.

“Kylo… you’re safe. And no matter what he did to you, he never broke you. You proved that, when you came back. You proved you were still _good_ , still **Light** , underneath that mask. And sure, you got some scars on you, but you’re still _you_. And **you** broke free.”  


“I’m sorry.”  


“Don’t be,” Poe says, and pulls him up again. “Come on. Dance with me.”  


“Poe…”  


“You let him stop you, you let him win. You come dance with me, and remember I’m here. No matter what happened before, you’re with me, now. And you’re safe, okay?”  


Kylo slides into place around him, and they dance slower, then. Closer. The oven dings, but Poe decides it can wait until the end of the song.

When it finishes, he feels the tickle of a kiss against his neck. “ _Thank you_.”

Poe holds him tighter. “Any time, Ky. Any time.”


End file.
